


Fight For It

by justanotherbusyfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-03 00:08:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16797493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherbusyfangirl/pseuds/justanotherbusyfangirl
Summary: Sam gives you a pep talk and you decide to fight for what you want, soon realizing that you didn’t actually need to fight for it after all.





	Fight For It

You had tears in your eyes as Sam rubbed your arm, trying to give you whatever comfort he could. As your best friend, he was the only one who knew about all of your inner demons, all the thoughts that rolled around your head about life, hunting, the loss of your family, and most recently, your realization that you were in love with Dean Winchester.

It was all just too overwhelming, and you had finally cracked.

So here you were, curled up in Sam’s bed in his room, as he was the ever-incredible friend, consoling you and being a warm body to snuggle with.

You weren’t even really sure what had set you off, except that the last hunt the three of you had gone on involved Dean flirting with _a lot_ of witnesses, waitresses, and even taking a stab at flirting with the witch, to try to catch her off her guard.

As good as you had gotten at repressing your feelings and ignoring Dean’s flirty banter with literally anyone and everyone, this time it was too much.

“This life, Sam,” you sniffled, wiping your tears away with your hand. “It’s too much. It’s too hard sometimes. I just know that if you weren’t here, I’d crumble.”

Sam nodded, letting you get all of your thoughts out.

“And then, of course Dean doesn’t even realize… It’s too hard, being around him all the time. I think –“ you sniffed, sliding out of Sam’s embrace and sitting up straight. “I think I need to go. Get away for a while. Stop being put down and just, I don’t know. Get over him. It’s just too much, too hard.”

Sam’s posture mirrored yours, sitting up and turning toward you. He didn’t want you to go, but he also wouldn’t stop you if it was what you needed. “Y/N,” he started, in his soothing voice he often used with terrified victims. “I won’t stop you, but I also don’t want you to just give up. Sometimes hunting sucks, yes. Of course, more than just sometimes my brother is stupid, not realizing what he could have that’s right in front of him. Sometimes _life_ in general is hard,” Sam took your small hands in his, dipping his head so that he could catch your eyes before he continued. “But Y/N, **nothing that’s worthwhile is ever easy, remember that**.”

You knew that Sam was speaking the truth, nodding your agreement.

“Maybe you need to go, sure,” he continued. “Or maybe you need to stand up and fight for something, because you sure as hell deserve the world.”

You smiled at Sam, wiping the rest of your tears away. He pulled your face toward him so he could kiss your forehead before you pushed yourself off his bed, heading out of his room.

When you got to the door, holding it open slightly, you turned back to him. “Thanks, Sammy. For everything.”

He nodded in response and you turned, stepping out into the hallway. As you closed Sam’s door, you saw Dean standing a few paces away in front of his door. 

You smiled. “Hey, Dean.” Your voice was quieter than you expected, but sometimes just talking to him was hard enough. You thought back to what Sam had said – _fight for something_ – and you squared your shoulders to face Dean. Maybe this was your chance to fight for something, for _him_.

Or maybe not, you thought as he suddenly turned away, walking away quickly like his pants were on fire without saying anything to you.

“Dean?” you called after him, and his pace increased. Pissed that he was obviously ignoring you, and grasping onto that willingness to fight that you had suddenly mustered, you followed.

Dean stomped into the kitchen, and you entered just in time to see him yank the cap off a beer and take a huge chug.

“What the hell, Dean?” you said, crossing your arms. You had done absolutely nothing – _nothing at all_ – to warrant him being a pissy little bitch, so you were gonna let him have it. 

He stopped chugging when half his beer was gone, pulling it away from his lips (oh those sinful lips). He stared at you for a moment, noting the irritation pouring from your body.

“Good for you, Y/N,” he finally said, confusing you. “’Bout time, I guess.” He chugged the rest of his beer while you tried to decipher what he was talking about, completely unsure of what he was saying.

“About time for what, Dean?” you asked, taking a few steps across the kitchen toward him. 

He shrugged. “Ya know,” he paused, looking down at his empty bottle like it was offending him. He looked back up at you, motioning up and down your body with one hand as if that would explain it. You looked down at yourself, trying to figure out what he was motioning toward. You were just in a tank and shorts, having gotten ready for bed before talking with Sam. When you looked back up at Dean with confusion, he merely said, “Sammy.”

“Huh?” you couldn’t help the sound that escaped. “What about Sam?”

Dean rolled his eyes at you, turning to toss his empty bottle in the recycle. “You and Sammy,” he said when his back was still to you.

You rolled his words over in your head, realizing that he thought that you and Sam had been _together_ –together. You laughed. “Me and Sammy, really Dean?”

Dean turned as you laughed, anger on his face. “Yeah, no need to rub it in my face, thanks,” he replied, starting toward the door until you grabbed his arm to stop him.

He froze, not looking at you as you spoke. “Dumbass, we aren’t a ‘Me-and-Sammy’. He was listening to me and helping me, as a friend, encouraging me to fight for the things that I want.”

Dean’s eyes turned to you when you said the last few words, giving you the encouragement that you needed to continue. Here goes.

“Things that I want – things like _you_.”

You watched as the emotions flitted across Dean’s face: confusion, annoyance, realization, relief…then his pupils were blown.

He pulled away from your grasp, turning toward you and pushing you until you were leaning against the table, with him mere inches away. He practically growled as he spoke, “Things like me?”

You nodded, only a little bit intimidated by the large man in front of you. “I got my pep-talk from Sam, now I’m ready to fight for you.”

Dean studied you for a minute more, before his upper lip curled in a smirk. “Good thing you don’t need to fight for me, sweetheart.”

Quickly and easily, Dean’s hands picked you up, one hand under your knees and the other holding your shoulders. Your hands grasped his neck in an automatic response.

Dean didn’t even look at you as he carried you down the hall and kicked the door to his room open then closed, finally dropping you to sit on his bed.

Your breathing was heavy as he stood before you, lust on his face and a smile on his lips. “Oh, Y/N, you have no idea. You don’t need to fight for me, I should be the one fighting for you.”

You smiled, crawling up toward his pillows. “Then come fight for me, Dean.”

You could hear the growl deep down in his throat as Dean followed your body, crawling onto the bed and positioning himself above you. He held his weight on his knees and elbows so that he didn’t crush you and his hands could cup your cheeks, letting you look up at him in awe. The way the light from the lamp on the table was hitting his profile – it made him look like he was glowing. Your face automatically leaned into his palms, and you sighed.

You liked that you didn’t have to fight for him, after all.

Dean took your sigh as an invitation, and his lips descended to meet yours. His kiss was sweeter than you expected, and his tongue slowly slipped along your lips, asking for entrance. When you opened yourself to him, he took his time exploring, his lips and tongue mapping every bit of you.

Your hands moved to his waist, slipping underneath his t-shirt. His warm body arched against your touch, and he moaned into your mouth as you scraped your fingernails against his skin.

Dean let himself lean further into your body, resting more of his weight on you so that he could explore your body with one hand. He traced the line of your collarbone, down your shoulder, before tentatively brushing his hand on your breast. 

He leaned back from the kiss to see your reaction, and you smiled at him, taking the opportunity to wrap your legs around his to press your hips together. That was all the permission he needed as his hand squeezed your breast firmly, causing you to moan before he captured your lips once more.

Your fingernails dug deeper into his skin, pulling his body against yours as you rolled your hips upward. You could feel the heat and ache pooling between your legs, and were happy to feel that Dean’s erection was hardening beneath his jeans as well.

Wanting to feel more of him, your hands tugged at his t-shirt, pushing it up his body to try to remove it. Dean got the memo, leaning back from you for a moment to grab the back of his collar and tug it over his head. You had seen Dean’s chest many times before, stitching it up or accidentally catching him changing, but you took the time to admire it all the same. 

Dean dove back in, this time kissing along your jawline and sucking your earlobe while your nails scratched on his back. Again, the sensation made his body arch, causing your hips to rub together deliciously. You groaned aloud at the feeling of Dean’s cock in his pants, and you decided to move things along.

Your hands quickly undid his belt, and in response Dean’s mouth moved down your neck to your collarbone. You unbuttoned and unzipped just enough to fit your hand down the front of his pants, getting your first feeling of his erection in your palm. Dean stopped kissing your skin when you grasped at him, his breath coming out in a huff against your skin. 

“Oh my God…” he breathed, his eyes closed to concentrate on the feeling of being held. You couldn’t do much in the confines of his pants, but your fingertip brushed at his slit, spreading the bit of precome already gathering there. You squeezed gently, feeling the blood pumping through his shaft.

“Fuck, too many clothes,” were the words that Dean finally gathered, and he leaned back. Your hand slipped from his pants, and you got to work on your own clothes. You watched each other as your tank and shorts fell to the floor, Dean quickly removing his jeans and underwear. In no time at all you were both naked, caught up in staring at each other.

“Beautiful,” Dean muttered, leaning toward you once more. You shook your head, making him stop and sit back on his feet. 

“Let me,” you said with a smile, leaning toward Dean and kissing him on the mouth once, before trailing your lips down his body. You felt every muscle tense as you touched it, and you loved the feeling of power you had over him. You descended down his chest and stomach until you were even with his fully erect member.

Dean could only watch as you nuzzled against the base of his cock, one hand wrapping around him and pumping him gently. Your eyes watched as a splotch of precome left the tip and you leaned forward to catch it with your tongue.

Dean’s intake of breath had you looking up at him, and you saw that he was watching you, eyes glazed over. You smiled and kept eye contact as you took him into your mouth, not stopping until his tip had hit the back of your throat. You sucked gently before you pulled back, your tongue pressing against the underside of his shaft as you released him.

Dean let out a soft “Ungh..” as he gently laid a hand on the back of your head, not forcefully but just resting there. You gave him a wink before finally breaking eye contact, concentrating fully on the cock in front of you.

You suckled on the head a bit, tongue flicking into the slit before you took him fully in your mouth once more, starting an easy rhythm. One hand pumped the base that you couldn’t quite get in your mouth as the other hand gently rolled his balls between your fingers.

Dean’s hand on your head tightened slightly, and you could only imagine the look of pleasure that was on his face. That thought encouraged you to speed up your bobbing, wanting to earn the grunts and groans that were leaving Dean’s lips.

You hummed around him, moving the hand that was teasing his balls to slip between your own legs. You were wet already: the fact that Dean Winchester’s cock was in your mouth turning you on more than you could imagine. You slipped a couple fingers inside of yourself, bobbing your head and pumping your fingers in time.

When your jaw was just starting to get tired, Dean pulled you off of him. You sat up, Dean noticing immediately that you were two fingers deep inside of yourself and groaning loudly in response.

“Come on, sweetheart, no more teasing,” he growled, launching himself toward you to lay you down and cover your body with his once more. He kissed you firmly, not minding that he could taste his own precome on your tongue. He only released your lips to grab a condom from his bedside table, putting it on quickly and easily before he returned.

For the first time, Dean looked into your eyes, unsure. “Y/N,” he said, moaning as your hands scratched at his back. “Are you sure about this?”

You huffed out a laugh, thinking that you should be the one asking him that question. “Of course, Dean. I should have fought for this a long time ago.” You reached between your bodies, lining his cock up with your entrance. Your eyes were locked as he pushed inside of you, seeing the look of pleasure and contentment on each other’s faces.

When Dean was fully seated, he kissed you deeply, giving you a minute to adjust to the feeling. When you were ready, your feet hooked behind his back and you bit his lip, whispering, “Move,” against his lips.

Dean followed your orders exquisitely, rolling his hips just right to pump in and out of you while rubbing your clit with every thrust, and you couldn’t stop the noises of encouragement that were leaving your lips. Your hands found purchase on Dean’s back, grasping and clawing at him with every thrust.

Dean’s mouth attached itself to your neck and shoulder, lips, teeth, and tongue making patterns on your skin. The sounds of sex filled the room: slapping and squelching, moaning and groaning, the occasional, “Fuck…oh yes…”

It was all too much, too soon. The rolling of Dean’s hips pushed you into orgasm, and your muscles tightened as you came, Dean helping you ride out your high. You moaned his name, biting at his jaw to try to keep yourself quiet. 

As your body began to relax, Dean sped up his thrusts, prolonging your orgasm and chasing his own. Your nails dug deeper into his back and your mouth found his ear, moaning into it, “Come for me, Dean…please.”

Dean followed your directive, cock pulsing inside of you as he released into the condom. You relished in the groan that he let out, already becoming addicted to the sound of your name on his lips. Dean’s hips slowed, the two of you catching your breath as your heart rates decreased.

Finally Dean stilled, his lips finding yours again and kissing you soundly. He pulled away, sliding out and off of your body to throw the condom in the trash. You watched as he turned, muffling a giggle at the sight of his back.

He looked over at you, curious as to why you were laughing. “Y/N?” he asked, unable to help the smile that crossed his face in response to your laughter.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” you said, reaching out to touch him. “Your back’s a bit…scratched up.”

Dean attempted and failed at turning around to see his own back, and you laughed at his helpless spin. He grinned back at you, realizing how silly he looked and choosing to pounce on you once more.

“Well, good thing I like it a little rough, then?” he said, kissing you again. You smiled against his lips, realizing that you were the happiest you’d been in a long time. Maybe sometimes things that were worthwhile could be easier to get than you expected.


End file.
